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Wilson comes on strong first thing in the morning, ambushing me in the main lobby. He laughs at his own audacity, but I don’t have the patience to humor him.

“Joseph, did you ask that question just to annoy me?”

“Oh, come on… Can I offer you a coffee to make up for it? I have a state-of-the-art machine in my office. It will save you having to wait in line at the—”

“No thank you, I’m in a hurry.”

I start walking, but he stays right on my heels.

“Slow down a little—at this rate there’s no man on earth who’ll ever be able to keep up with you!”

“That’s exactly my goal!”

He seems put out by my icy stare.

“All right, Alma, I was joking. No need to get defensive!”

“I get defensive because I’ve asked you several times not to comment on my appearance, and I would like our relationship to remain professional. I don’t know how to make myself any clearer.”

I’m afraid of going too far. Of jeopardizing my position at King Productions. I take it down a notch, out of pure survival instinct.

“Now I’ll leave you to it. I have work to do. Have a good day.”

Wilson blocks my way, his features tight with irritation. “Do you think he behaves professionally?!”

So, this isn’t about him putting me in my place at all.

“Abandoning ship when we have so much to do! His presence is crucial, essential—he knows that perfectly well! And it’s all just to babysit his little starlet…”

“Sorry, but I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He doesn’t even have the decency to give me a return date! What am I supposed to do in the meantime? Take on all his work?!”

“It seems to me that’s what you’re here for, Joseph.”

“Absolutely not! I already have enough on my plate! And what do I tell our investors, the bankers, everyone he’s left hanging? He has no respect for what we do!”

“I’m not sure you’re really in a position to talk about resp—”

“All this over a fling!”

I’m certain of it now: Joseph Wilson isn’t listening to a thing I’m saying. I really shouldn’t have worried about what he might think of my responses.

I try to catch his attention by making eye contact, like you would with a child in the middle of a meltdown. “Wait, which starlet, Wilson? What do you mean?”

“Grace Montgomery, who else? She’s started shooting a new movie in L.A. Poor thing! Obviously, she couldn’t possibly have managed without her filthy rich king of the world! Meanwhile, we’re all screwed.”

“Mr. Wilson, your nine o’clock appointment is waiting for you on the seventh floor,” his assistant says in a tiny voice as she appears out of nowhere.

He waves her off, clears his throat, and finally heads to work.

Now I have two problems. Number one: my direct supervisor is a perpetually frustrated man who’s incapable of managing his emotions, with the maturity of a fourteen-year-old and the attention span of an eighteen-month-old. Number two: Vadim didn’t leave because of us at all; he took off to play the devoted, attentive boyfriend with his beautiful girlfriend.

Damn jealousy.

***

Trigger warning: this chapter contains a sexual assault scene that may be distressing to some readers.